April 25, 2019

My Time In Vienna

In the darkness of the reflecting wet as wet can be streets and in the darkness of my own damp mildewed mind, where the shadows from the buildings and streetlights have long fingers and a darkness all their own and a certain menace, I stumble into town as a fool unsure...I find a hotel which had seen better days under the Habsburgs, but haven’t we all?...there’s a suggestion of some form of previous grandeur or at least youth--...my room has a view of a brick building but what is it?...warehouse? an apartment building? business of some sort? a crematorium?...just a pile of bricks my beaten down mind has twisted into something that isn’t?...a restless night of no sleep, I fall my way down to the cafe around the corner with its white steel chairs and little round tables that surely have hosted a hundred thousand meetings and been resting places for endless cups of coffee or tea long since drank or drunk...I pass on eating anything and just get a simple cup of coffee—black like my mind...staring into it the reflections of my nobody’s home eyes...the morning passes and I find myself in a basement streetside bar drinking cheap German gin and I look out the windows at the tires of cars and trucks going by—every Audi, Mercedes and BMW strutting in front of my face...and I don’t think what I’m doing here because I can’t answer that...legs and shoes walking by with staunch purpose, the black and gray trench coats marching past like a May Day parade...I talk to a sad looking woman sitting near me...she is dark haired with dark eyes that stare at the bottom of her glass like she’s waiting to see some kind of hallelujah dance in it, and with a dark accent that I can’t quite figure out but I figure she must be one of the locals...she’s a waif wearing a nondescript coat from Omar the tent maker --after chatting for a while, I ask if I could buy her some lunch and she agrees, so we walk around the city telling lies to each other—at least I am...until we find a place she recommends and then stop for some wienerschnitzel and a couple large mugs of German beer...the restaurant has dark wood paneling and the booths have intricate wood carvings on them...and cuckoo clocks that tell a and of a time that I’m not familiar with...on the shelves there are figurines that are frozen in time and pose gathering dust and staring mournfully at us as though they’re waiting for us to release them from their indentured servitude...we eat and talk for an hour or so--both agreeing that we’ve given up on our big dreams and are just trying to make it day to day now and god that can be a struggle...the lunch runs its course and so does are budding relationship—I’ve discovered that there’s something disquieting about her that I can’t put my finger wrist or fist on...there’s something in her eyes that say ‘beware my herr’...my mind is flashing red halt signs so I hit the brakes over a strudel...she wants to go back to a beer hall but I say “Nein donke” and we say our auf wiedersehens and she gives me her phone number anyway and then I head out into a world of monotonous monotones...now I’m not one to say nein to a beer hall, beerhaus, beer garden or anything beer related, but it just didn’t feel right nohow somehow...the vibe follows me to the chaotic train station where I board the familiar train that runs to nowhere special.